


Peaches and Plums

by SabbyStarlight



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e05 A Life in the Day, Episode: s04e05 Escape From the Happy Place, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Peaches and Plums, Romance, post-monster, queliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 16:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17901770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SabbyStarlight/pseuds/SabbyStarlight
Summary: “Wait…”  Margo’s eyes narrowed in remembrance.  “Is this about that whole weird alternate timeline you two lived out?  Where you like, fell in love and grew old and died together?  Cause I thought we were past that.”“So did I,”  Eliot admitted, never looking away from Quentin’s questioning eyes.  “And that’s where I screwed everything up.”





	Peaches and Plums

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless little self-indulgent Queliot fic that I wrote as a “happy birthday to me” gift to myself because I’m still in awe over that episode…

They take him back to Brakebills. 

Not to the apartment where they all have too many haunting memories shared with the monster wearing Eliot’s skin. Nor to Fillory, though there had been many decent arguments made to do just that; it had seemed safer to bring Eliot’s body to the castle, to surround themselves with armed guards until he healed. The infirmary had tried their best to convince them to keep him there, under medical supervision, but Margo had held strong, insisting that when he woke up (and he WAS going to wake up, she refused to give even the slightest thought to the idea that he might not) he would want to be home. And the cottage was just that, home. 

She had lost track of time somewhere along the way of her bedside sitting vigil. Fen would be proud, she remembers thinking at some point, of how seriously she had taken her job of tightly gripping Eliot’s too-still hand and intently staring at his face. Every slight movement, and there were several because Eliot had always been a restless sleeper and apparently post-possession sleep was no different, she found herself hoping that it would be the moment he would come back to her. So far every twitched lip and furrowed brow had left her in disappointment but she wasn’t giving up hope. 

Even more gutwrenching were the mumbled words that would occasionally slip past his sleeping lips. They weren’t frequent and from what Margo could tell they were anything but coherent. Each one sent her hopes sky-high though, every murmur left her sure that he was finally coming out of it. Each time it didn’t, the pain of her heart plummeting to the ground hurt more and more. 

She had the vaguest memories of the rest of their merry band of misfits checking in on them. Of Julia practically dragging her away from the desk chair she had pulled next to his bed, shoving an armful of clean clothes into her arms and promising to sit with him while she took a shower. Josh periodically bringing her plates of food, perching on Eliot’s unorganized desk with crossed arms until he made sure she finished every last bland, tasteless, bite before squeezing her shoulder in a way that was supposed to offer comfort and taking the empty plate from her hands, pretending not to notice the way they trembled. Kady, Alice, and Penny 23, even Todd stopped by. There was always pointless questions and attempts to make small talk until they realized she was in no mood for their placating voices and sympathetic eyes and left. They were all there, on a constant rotation. Everyone except for Quentin.

“It’s been the hardest on him,” Julia had defended when, after an arduously planned night, the monster had left Eliot’s body for the one they had helped him build and they had joined together once again, this time to end the monster’s reign of terror once and for all. As soon as they were sure of their success Quentin had bailed, saying he needed some air. Nobody had seen him since. “Just think of how hard it’s been on us, seeing that… that thing walk around inside Eliot. Quentin was with him for all of it. Day in, day out, he was there, not just seeing but having to help it on it’s, quest, or whatever you want to call it. Give him some space. He’ll be back.” She had given that speech countless times over the past few days but even Julia was starting to question her faith in the man. 

Which is why when it was Quentin’s voice, not one of the other’s, that came from the open doorframe, it was enough to shock Margo out of her vigil. “Still no change?” 

She turned to look at him, instinctively tightening her grip on Eliot’s hand to make sure she wouldn’t miss any movements if she wasn’t going to be watching him. He was leaning against the doorway, shoulders slumped and his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. His shirt was wrinkled and his hair was unruly but that was such a typical look for Quentin that she couldn’t decide if anything was out of place or not. His eyes, while shadowed with dark circles, didn’t seem to be quite as forlorn. That was something at least. 

She shook her head and turned back to her best friend’s sleeping form. “There’s nothing wrong with him medically, we had him checked out as soon as we got back. He’s just… asleep.” She sighed, letting go of his hand and running her fingers through her hair in frustration before adjusting Eliot’s sheet for what had to be the millionth time. “You know, you can come in. He won’t bite. Well, I mean, at least not when he’s unconscious.”

Quentin shuffled closer, hovering hesitantly at the foot of the bed before sighing. “What the hell.” He muttered before sitting down across from Margo, hip against Eliot’s thigh, and picked up his hand, ghosting his thumb across Eliot’s knuckles. “Hey, El.” He began, staring down at their intertwined hands because seeing Eliot that still was unnerving. “It’s me. Sorry I took so long to come see you. Looks like Margo has things under control though.” He paused, reaching up to carefully tuck a wayward curl behind Eliot’s ear. “God, I miss you El. We all do. So damn much. So if you want to come back to us, we’d all really appreciate it.”

The room was silent for a long moment, Quentin and Margo both holding their breath and wishing, hoping, praying even, for a response that never came. “And now you see the dilemma,” Margo said, finally breaking the silence and slumping back into her chair. “Doesn’t matter what I do, he won’t wake up, won’t acknowledge me. Don’t get me wrong, Quentin, I’m glad we got that thing out of him, I am, but we win and get this?” She gestured to Eliot’s still body. “When will the world stop dealing us shitty cards?” 

“Why don’t you take a break, Margo,” Quentin suggested gently, choosing to ignore the shrillness and break in her voice that could only mean a meltdown was moments away. “Get some air. Or a drink. A cigarette. Something. I’m here, I’ll come get you the second anything changes.” 

“I’m not leaving him.” She hissed and Quentin held up his free hand in surrender, long ago having discovered that Margo’s bad side was somewhere he never wanted to find himself. “But a cigarette doesn’t sound awful.” 

Quentin smiled at her, though it wasn’t up to its usual wattage, and tossed her the pack of cigarettes from his front shirt pocket. She caught them with one hand in midair and pushed the desk chair away from the bed, choosing instead to collapse into the significantly comfier window seat along the far wall of the room. 

They stayed like that, silent, Margo flicking ashes out the opened window and Quentin reassuring himself by counting Eliot’s breaths until a tiny movement from the hand in Quentin’s grasp startled him back into awareness. “Margo. I… his hand. He moved.” 

She sighed, lighting another cigarette with an elegant twist of her fingers. “Don’t get your hopes up. It happens. Doesn’t mean anything.” 

He didn’t have time to be disappointed though, because mere seconds after she finished speaking Eliot began mumbling. A single syllable, before his lips fell silent again, but it was music to Quentin’s ears because it sounded suspiciously like the word “Plums.”

“Margo! You heard that, right?” He asked, standing up and tightening his grip on Eliot’s hand, the other coming to rest against the side of Eliot’s face. “He said plums. You heard it too?” 

“Chill out, Coldwater. He’s yammering on about fruit. Not exactly breaking news.” Margo scoffed. “Who knows what kind of nightmare he’s reliving after what he’s been through in the past few weeks.” 

“I do,” Quentin whispered. When Margo met his eyes it looked like someone had kicked him in the stomach. “I know what that means, and it’s not a nightmare. Well, not for him exactly. Has… has he said that before?” 

“Maybe?” She tossed the cigarette butt out the window and sauntered back over to the bed. “He says stuff sometimes, but he’s always talked in his sleep. For as long as I’ve known him. It doesn’t mean anything. I’m telling you, don’t get your hopes up.”

“What do you mean, it doesn’t mean anything?” He asked, appalled. “You’re kidding me, right? Peaches and plums?” If the incredulous look on her face was anything to go by, she clearly didn’t have any clue what he was talking about. “Fine.” He sighed. “But trust me, he’s waking up.” 

“Then by all means,” Margo said, spreading her arms wide as if offering permission as she sat back down in the desk chair. “Wake him up.” 

“Eliot?” Quentin called as he gently carded his hand through the mop of curls atop Eliot’s head. “El, I’m here. I’m right here, Eliot. He’s gone, it’s over, you’re you again.” He promised, pressing Eliot’s hand against his chest. “Feel that? My heart beating? I’m right here, El. Just wake up. Wake up for me.”

After a tense moment of silence where even Margo had gone against her own advice and gotten her hopes up yet again, Eliot was still asleep. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken another word. If it weren’t for the newly rekindled anguish burning in Quentin’s eyes it would have appeared as if nothing had happened at all. 

“Please, El.” He whispered, “I know you’re there, just come back to me.” And moving as if he were on autopilot, acting on pure instinct alone, Quentin leaned down and captured Eliot’s lips with his own. He gathered every last grain of faith he could muster and poured it into the kiss, focusing on hope instead of the way Eliot lay unmoving beneath him. It was only after he broke away that he remembered Margo sitting on the other side of the bed. 

“Did you just go all Sleeping Beauty on my best friend?” She asked. “Not gonna lie, Q, that’s a little rapey.” 

“Shut up,” Quentin said as a blush began creeping it’s way up his neck. He didn’t have long to be embarrassed though, because Eliot suddenly let out a loud gasp and his eyes flew open, wide with fear. 

“Eliot!” Margo screeched, standing up so fast that the chair clattered to the floor with a clang. Her hands flitted over him, afraid to touch him and desperate to feel all of him at once, landing on his cheek then his arm, petting through his hair and resting on his chest. “You’re okay baby, you’re okay.” She repeated, unaware that she was saying anything at all. 

Among all the chaos that was Margo, it wasn’t until Eliot tried to move that he noticed Quentin sitting beside him, still holding onto his hand. “Q.” He breathed, turning his head to smile at the younger man. 

“Welcome back,” Quentin said, returning the smile and letting out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. 

“It’s really over?” Eliot asked, the smile leaving his face as quickly as it formed, panicked eyes glancing back and forth between Quentin and Margo, searching for answers. “For good? He’s gone?” 

“He’s gone,” Margo assured, mirroring Quentin’s stance and settling down beside Eliot, taking his free hand in her’s. “I promise.” 

“How do you feel?” Quentin asked, worry about his friend and worry that he had crossed the line keeping them as just friends, causing him to tug his hand free of Eliot’s. 

“A little sore,” Eliot admitted with a sigh, tension draining from his shoulders as he relaxed back into his pillows. “Honestly I’m just exhausted,” he said around a yawn. “Which is insane seeing as how I literally just woke up. Who knew being possessed for days would take so much out of a guy?” 

“Weeks.” Quentin corrected softly, nervously picking at a tiny hole in the hem of his shirt. “It took us weeks, El, to get you back. Couple more days and it would have turned into months.” 

“Well, you did.” Eliot pointed out and when Quentin finally looked up to meet his eyes he was smiling. “And that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah and then after all that it took you even longer to wake up, jackass.” Margo interrupted. “You think you’re tired? I’ve been sitting here for days, flattening my ass on this uncomfortable chair, just waiting on you to grace us with your presence. Then Quentin saunters in here, overhears you mumbling nonsense while you’re dreaming about fruit, and you wake right up.” She shook her head at him, trying to appear upset but missing the mark entirely. “You better watch out once you’re back on your feet, cause I am pissed.” 

“I love you too, Bambi,” Eliot smirked and tossed her a wink, reading right through her words. 

“Well if you’re not going to at least pretend like I’m mildly threatening, will someone please explain the fruit thing to me?” She asked. “Like, seriously, what the hell?” 

Eliot’s laugh might have been the most beautiful thing Quentin had heard in months. He couldn’t help but join in with his own chuckle when the only thing Eliot offered up as an explanation was to simply respond with “Peaches and plums, baby.” As he reached out and reclaimed Quentin’s hand, giving it another squeeze. 

“You seriously never told her?” He asked, fully understanding what it meant that Margo didn’t know the story behind the words. 

“Never told me what?” Margo asked, eyes darting suspiciously between the two men. 

“It’s wasn’t my tale to tell,” Eliot shrugged, meeting his eyes with a small smile. “It’s ours. And she was a little too distracted with marrying her child groom in that moment to worry about my drama.”

“Wait…” Margo’s eyes narrowed in remembrance. “Is this about that whole weird alternate timeline you two lived out? Where you like, fell in love and grew old and died together? Cause I thought we were past that.” 

“So did I,” Eliot admitted, never looking away from Quentin’s questioning eyes. “And that’s where I screwed everything up.” 

Margo, realizing that something major was occurring even if she didn’t exactly know what it was, stood up. “I’m sensing that you two need a moment to sort out… whatever this is.” She waved her hand at the two of them. “So I’m gonna be, somewhere that’s not here. Yell if you need me.” She smiled down at Eliot. “I’m so glad you’re back.” Then she placed a kiss on Eliot’s cheek before leaving the room, pulling the door shut behind her. 

“Q, we need to talk,” Eliot began as soon as the door closed with a click. 

“No.” Quentin interrupted him. “No, Eliot, we really don’t. Everything’s fine. You’re back, you’re alright. That’s all that matters.” 

Eliot let go of Quentin’s hand to push himself up to sitting, ignoring the pull on his aching muscles. He rested a hand on Quentin’s knee and ducked his head to meet his eyes. “Did you mean it?” He asked softly. “What you… propositioned? About us?” 

“Of course,” Quentin answered automatically. “I wouldn’t… God, Eliot I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t serious. I loved you. But it’s like you said, we were hit with fifty years worth of memories and emotions. All of that, coursing through our veins, you were right to turn me down. I’m over it.”

“But what if I’m not,” Eliot whispered, voice so low Quentin wasn’t quite sure if he had made up the words himself. “Over it? Over you. Us.” 

Quentin breathed out a mirthless laugh, blinking up at the ceiling while hurridly running his hands through his hair. “What is it with us and near death proclamations, huh?” He asked, mostly to himself before shaking his head as if erasing the thought from his mind. “Look, you’re not in any condition to be having this conversation, so rest. Heal. And then if that’s still something you want to discuss then, I’m all ears, okay?” 

“Q…” Eliot began but Quentin stopped him before he could go any further. 

“Don’t. Please.” He sighed before picking up Eliot’s hand once again, holding it this time between both of his own. “I finally got myself back to a place where I could love you without it hurting. Where having you as a friend, as my best friend, was enough. And I can’t imagine what kind of cruel hell you lived through in the past weeks but it wasn’t exactly easy for me either. Having to help that thing with his twisted games so he wouldn’t hurt you… El, I just don’t know if I have it in me right now to handle another rejection from you when you wake up only to realize that you made a huge mistake.” He sniffed and quickly wiped his eyes with the collar of his shirt. “Just, give it a few days, okay?” 

Eliot leaned forward, hands coming to rest on Quentin’s shoulders. “If I learned anything from this whole mess, it’s that we might not have a few days. I love you, Quentin Coldwater, and I’m so, so sorry I couldn’t admit that before. I run away when I get scared, that’s what I do. But I made a promise when I was in The Happy Place, trying to get out of my own head, when I was trying to let you know that I was still there, that if I made it out alive I was going to be braver. This is me being brave.” And with that, he leaned even closer and pressed his lips against Quentin’s in the type of tender kiss that is only known to lovers who have spent half a century in each other’s arms. 

Quentin broke away first, but he didn’t go far, resting his forehead against Eliot’s, the two of them breathing the same air. “Who did you promise?” He asked softly, finding Eliot’s hand among the twisted bed sheets and intertwining their fingers. “In The, The Happy Place? You called it?” 

He felt rather than saw Eliot’s smile. “Just a friend.” Thoughts of that Quentin, the one that he had left rejected for no reason other than his own foolish cowardliness, quickly derailed his happiness. “Q, I’m not sure if you still feel the way you did then, and I couldn’t be angry at you if you’ve moved on. If I’ve missed my chance, well then that’s on me. And while I’m not thrilled by the idea, I will take living in a world where I’m lucky enough to have you as my best friend and nothing more, if you’ll still have me.” 

“And if I want more?” Quentin asked, pulling away enough to look Eliot in the eyes as he spoke. 

“Then I’m your’s,” Eliot promised. “Wholly, and completely your’s. And we will be the luckiest bastards in the world.” Quentin laughed, eyes sparkling and alive and blissfully happy. Eliot had only seen him look that happy once before, at their impromptu crowning ceremony. He remembers thinking in that moment, how lucky he was to get to see Quentin, their broody, anxious, borderline depressed Quentin, that happy. It was like lightning striking a piece of the Earth, it only happened once. He never knew anything other than Fillory, than all his childhood dreams literally coming true, could make Quentin smile as he did in that moment. Even Eliot wasn’t selfish enough to think that he could be the miracle that made lightning strike twice. And yet here was his proof, and all he could do was smile back. 

“Please tell me you’re serious, El.” Quentin finally broke the silence with a disbelieving laugh. 

“I’m serious,” Eliot assured. “Seriously in love with you. So seriously in love with you, in fact, that the universe knew I couldn’t tell you nearly enough in just one lifetime. That’s why we got two.” 

Quentin grinned, a wicked smile that Eliot had never seen before, and reached out suddenly, pushing his shoulder until Eliot fell backward into the mound of pillows and blankets. Before he had time to think, Quentin’s lips were on his and they were sharing the rare kind of frantic, heated, kiss that comes from two people who know they have their entire lives left to explore one another but were too in love to bother with taking their time. “Well, in that case, peaches and plums, motherfucker.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever attempt at writing for this fandom so I’m slightly terrified to post it. If you enjoyed it or just want to gush about this amazing show and these two now-kinda-sorta-almost-canonically-in-love fellas, let me know! I tried to do them (and Margo, because I adore her) justice. Either way, thanks for reading!


End file.
